Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
by amythis
Summary: Tony asks me, the night after we accidentally woke up together, "Did you dream anything?" At first I don't remember, and he says he doesn't dream. But then we look away from each other, and it all comes back! [Set during the first seven seasons.]
1. Who Am I to Disagree?

Tony asks me, the night after we accidentally woke up together, "Did you dream anything?"

At first I don't remember, and he says he doesn't dream. But then we look away from each other, and it all comes back!

_I'm at Grant's house upstate. We agreed to not go away together till after the Board's decision. But now that I'm President of Wallace and McQuade, on my own merits, it's time for that weekend away._

_I haven't dated much since Michael left me. It's partly that we're still only separated, not yet divorced, and partly that most men feel threatened by my success. That's not a problem with Grant, as he's my boss._

"_Let me tell you one thing, Angela. You'd never catch me doing something dumb like sleeping with my employer!"_

_I hired Tony as Jonathan's nanny, not mine. Of course, my nanny had gray hair in a bun and wore cardigans. She didn't sleep in blue pajama bottoms and a form-fitting sleeveless white T-shirt, when he bothers with a T-shirt._

_Why am I thinking about Tony so much? Tony is just my housekeeper. Yes, he's cute if you like that macho, ethnic type, but Grant is just as handsome, not to mention successful. He's witty, too, although Tony makes me laugh harder, those silly jokes that I can't help liking._

_Anyway, it's Grant gargling in the bathroom as I wait impatiently in his bed. What will it be like to be with a new man? It's been so long since Michael, who was my first. (Brian and I came close, but thank God that was annulled.) Michael was so passionate and loving in the beginning, but he was essentially selfish, and not just as a husband. Poor Jonathan! If Tony hadn't come along, he'd never have known what it's like to have a good father._

_Not that Tony is his father, or would ever be a stepfather. But he's already filling that role, without the fuss of marriage. Grant never spends much time with Jonathan, but he's so busy. I'm lucky he's got time for me!_

_The light goes off in the bathroom. I prop myself up, seductively but not obviously. I smile at the man in the doorway._

_But this man doesn't have distinguished but prematurely gray hair. His is brown shading into black. This man isn't wearing the Brooks Brothers robe and matching nightshirt I got Grant for his birthday. He's wearing blue pajama bottoms and an apologetic smile._

"_Ay, Angela, Grant called and said there was an emergency meeting and he had to go."  
>"An emergency meeting and I wasn't told?"<br>"Calm down, Angela. It's just for the Board and Grant."  
>"And that's supposed to calm me down?"<em>

_ "I'm sure it's fine. No need to get so tense."_

_ "I'm not tense!"_

_ He comes over to the bed and sits on the edge. "I think you're a little tense." _

_"Well, you're wrong!"_

_ "OK, so I'm wrong. It happens."_

_ "Oh, what else do you admit to being wrong about?"_

_ "Well, remember when I said it's dumb to sleep with your employer? Well, there could be times when that's OK."_

_ "Oh?"_

_ "Yeah, like if your job doesn't depend on it. And if you're really attracted to each other."_

_ "Well, my job doesn't depend on it. And I thought Grant and I were really attracted to each other. And here I am, alone in his bedroom."  
>"Thanks a lot."<br>"Oh, Tony, I didn't mean alone-alone. I mean without, you know."_

_ "A lover?"_

_ I blush. "Yes. But I appreciate you being here as a friend." Since it's a dream, I don't question how he got here, or why he was gargling._

_ "Well, I didn't want you to feel stood up."_

_ "Thank you, Tony. That's very considerate of you."  
>"Well, I'm a considerate guy."<br>"You are." More than Grant, I almost say. "And you're right. I am a little tense."_

_ "Would you like a friendly neck and shoulder massage?"_

_ Since it's a dream, I don't question that either. I just nod and turn my back to him._

_ "I like this nightie of yours. It shows off your great back."_

_ It shows off more than that but I just thank him for the compliment._

_ And then he rubs my neck and shoulders. His hands are strong but gentle. I can't help crying out, making gasps and moans that I had thought it would take Grant's whole body to bring out in me. In the dream-world, there's no need to hold back. And my sounds guide Tony, teach him what I like. Till I feel utter release and peace, which fades into deep sleep._

That's all that happened, nothing more, but nothing less. I blocked it out when I first woke up this morning, although enough of the feeling lingered that waking up with Tony felt completely natural, which it completely was not. It got further lost in the craziness of the day, including _Eye on Hartfield, _with Bobbi Barnes almost (but not, thanks to Mother) revealing our accidental sleeping arrangements to the entire town.

Then Tony's question after the broadcast brought it all back. Good thing I didn't remember it when I woke up with him! That would've been so embarrassing! Not that he would've known, but I would've felt even more awkward.

Yes, it was just a dream. People dream all sort of things, some of it nothing to do with reality, or even waking fantasy. I spend a lot of time with Tony, and in some ways he's my friend as much as he's my housekeeper. And it's not like it was a sex dream!

It's just, well, when I remember it now, I feel warmer than I do when I have sex dreams about Grant. It's probably just the taboo aspect. Yes, I work for Grant, but our backgrounds are similar. It's not like with Tony, who comes from a different world.

"Is the fire too warm?" he asks now.

"The fire? No, it's nice. But it's making me sleepy."

"Yeah, me, too."  
>"Maybe we should go to bed."<br>He raises his eyebrows.

I hope I'm not blushing. "Different sleeping arrangements than last night."

"Good idea. I think I'll crash here, on the couch, so my snoring doesn't keep Jonathan awake."  
>"It's funny, I didn't even notice your snoring."<p>

"Yeah, you must've slept pretty soundly, to not even know I was there."

"Yes, probably. Well, goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Angela. Sweet dreams."

Now I really hope I'm not blushing.

…

Sweet dreams. That's what I had last night. Well, one dream but it was sweet. Luckily not wet. I mean, I thought I was sleeping with Samantha! Waking up in a wet spot with my boss would've been much better, but still really awkward.

Well, OK, it would be nice to wake up like that with Angela if we'd planned it. And if she weren't my boss. And if she felt that way about me. But I'm not her type. I think.

OK, I know women enough to know that there's some attraction on both sides. But Angela's not the type to act on attraction unless everything else lines up. Like with Grant. He's her type: distinguished-looking, educated, successful, snappy dresser, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not braggin', but I could probably look as good in a fancy suit. I just don't have that kind of money, or the experience to know what to buy. Not that Angela's after the suit, but it seems to be just as important as what's inside.

Except, well, that dream. And I can replay it now because I'm alone and it's not like it's the kind of dream where I wish I was alone in my bed. Or maybe in my bed, but not alone.

_"Tony, just try it on."_

_ "Angela, I don't want you buying me clothes. It makes me feel like a gigolo."_

_ "How can you be a gigolo if you're not getting rewarded for sexual favors?"  
>"Mother!"<em>

_ "Put the damn suit on, Tony. Humor the poor woman."  
>"OK, OK." It probably won't look right on me anyway. Angela's very stylish, but she doesn't buy men's clothes. Maybe she did for Michael before they got divorced. Maybe that's why they got divorced.<em>

_ Kidding, kidding. Actually, although she's pretty uptight, Angela's quite a catch. I don't know how he let her go. OK, she's not the kind of girl who walks into a room and dazzles you, except sometimes when she dresses up for a social occasion, like for our "dinner for two." And even then, I wish she'd show more skin. From what I glimpsed walking in on her getting out of the tub, she's got fantastic legs, but she always wears those long skirts._

_ Yeah, Micelli, maybe you should be glad she doesn't show them off, that she is so conservative. Do you think you could live with her and keep your hands off her if she dressed like Mona? Not that she's as curvy of course, but she's got those long, sleek lines I want to run my hands along._

_ "Tony, is everything all right in there?"_

_ "Yeah, it's great."_

_ "Dear, maybe you should go into the changing room and check on him."  
>"Shut up, Mother."<em>

_ Yeah, that's all I need, me in my skivvies, trying to fight a hard-on, and Angela comes in and tries to help me get dressed._

_ OK, think about baseball. Except I love baseball. OK, think about driving the Rossini fish-truck. You never had this problem at that job, did you, Micelli?_

_ That's better. OK, here we go. I hope I don't look like a waiter._

_ Hey, not bad. I can't let her buy this for me though. I'll say it doesn't fit right or something. I've got my pride and I can't have a woman buy me clothes. Not Angela anyway._

_ "Are you going to model it for us or not?"_

_ "OK, OK!" I go out there. _

_Mona grins. "Very nice." She never has any trouble expressing her appreciation of a good-looking guy, which not to brag, I am. In this suit especially. "Doesn't he look nice, Angela?"_

"_Nice isn't the word," she says softly. I'm still learning to read Angela. It's kind of like an Asian language, where tone is everything. Her voice is like an actress's. I don't mean fake. But it's versatile. One minute she's the tough no-nonsense president of an ad agency, and then she's schmoozing a client. And then she's silly, or insecure. And sometimes it hits this low register, not like a man but like the most womanly woman who ever lived!_

"_Does it fit all right?" Angela asks._

_I see how important it is to her. That she wants to do this for me. Maybe I should let her. "Yeah, it fits fine."_

"_I don't know," Mona says. "Now that I look a little more closely, it may be a little tight in the crotch."_

_It wasn't too tight until I started thinking about Angela's voice._

_I expect Angela to protest, "Mother!", the way she does. But instead she says, in a low register, "I think it's perfect the way it is."_

OK, maybe that dream was a little hot. But still sweet.

I wonder if Angela really didn't dream anything last night. Maybe she was lying like I was. I wonder if she's dreaming right now.

I know, it's none of my business what she dreams. Maybe I shouldn't even be thinking about what I dream, not if it's about her. I can't have her, and even if I could, it would change everything. Things are good the way they are. And she is my boss.

I'll try not to dream about her anymore, and if I do, well, I won't dwell on it.

At least if I do dream about her again, I won't have to face her when I wake up.


	2. I Travel the World

"Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Angela." Tony's voice breaks like it did after we kissed twenty-two years ago. But this time it's not puberty. Well, it's hormones, but those of a man in his 30s, sharing a bed with a woman he's just agreed not to "change things with."

Part of me wishes we could. Some things have changed since the last time we shared a bed. We've had that drunken kiss, and remembered our real first kiss. But if things are really going to change, I don't want it to be in this narrow little bed, with rain falling through the ceiling onto the other bed.

I don't know if I can get any sleep, lying next to him. But if I don't sleep, Mother will be even more suspicious.

It's funny, I feel sort of peaceful, lying next to Tony. I remember how it felt when I woke up with him a few months ago. Of course, I hadn't even known he was in the bed then. I certainly wouldn't have dreamed of him if I had!

I hope I don't dream of him tonight. That's the last thing I need.

I wonder if watching TV would help. No, not with the kind of movies they're showing on cable! I'll just try to blank out my mind. Blank screen….

_I tilt my head to try to make sense of the figures on the screen. "Is that humanly possible?"_

_My roommate Trish shushes me. It's her idea we're here. I would never have dreamed of sneaking off to New York to see _I Am Curious (Yellow) _if she hadn't talked me into it. Of course she didn't present it as watching pornography. She said we'd be striking a blow for freedom of speech. Not that there's all that much talking, and it's all in Swedish. But the subtitles are pretty free._

"_I'll show you humanly possible," says a male voice behind me._

_I jump in my seat and spill my popcorn._

"_Sorry," says the voice._

"_Ignore him, Angela. He sounds like he's from Brooklyn."_

"_Ay-oh, oh-ay, what's wrong with Brooklyn?"_

"_If you have to ask."_

_The rest of the audience shushes them. I get out of my seat and try to pick up the popcorn. We're in the first row, because Trish said that that way I wouldn't have to wear my glasses, although I did anyway. So I'm crawling around on the floor, trying not to block anyone's view, as I scoop up what I can of the popcorn back into my bucket._

"_You're not gonna eat that, are you?" the voice whispers. I see that it belongs to a boy about my age. He's got dark hair in a Beatles haircut. Not the Beatles now but pre-_Sgt.-Pepper. _It's cute the way it flops into his eyes, especially when he's crawling next to me._

_"Of course not. Who knows what germs there are on the floor!" I suddenly realize I probably shouldn't be crawling around. I'll get my maxi-skirt dirty._

_ "Yeah, especially at a movie like this."_

_ I'm not quite sure what he's implying, but I'm sure I don't want to ask. Instead, I say, "I just don't like to leave a mess."_

_ "Yeah, I'm kind of a neat freak myself. Well, not a neat __freak_, _but you know, tidy. Here." He hands me some stray kernels._

_ "I don't know if those are mine."_

_ "What you got your popcorn monogrammed? Is that what you New Hampshire girls do?"_

_ "Connecticut."_

_ "Angela, why are you talking to him?"_

_ Everyone shushes us. _

_ "Hey, do you wanna step out to the lobby? I could get you more popcorn."  
>"Oh, no, you don't have to do that!"<em>

_ "I insist. It's my fault you spilled it."_

_ "Well, all right." _

_He helps me to my feet. Everyone yells, "Down in front!" so we quickly run to and up the aisle, Trish yelling after us, "Angela, are you wigging out?"_

_I'd explain but everyone is shushing her again._

_So here I am, with some strange boy from Brooklyn, in the lobby of a movie theater that shows pornography. This is maybe the wildest thing I've ever done!_

_He throws away my popcorn bucket and gets on line. OK, there's only one man ahead of him. Obviously, most of the audience is glued to the screen. I'm surprised this boy isn't. Maybe he thought I was cute in the dark. I hope he's not too disappointed._

"_So what do you want?"  
>"Excuse me?"<br>"Butter? Salt? Anchovies?"_

"_Anchovies?!"_

"_That was a joke."_

"_Oh, it was a very funny one."  
>"Thanks."<br>"And thank you for the popcorn. Light butter, light salt, no anchovies."_

"_That's how I like it, too. I bet we got a lot in common."_

_I giggle._

"_That wasn't a joke."_

"_Oh."_

_He orders a large bucket._

"_Oh, I couldn't eat all that!" I have enough trouble with my diet as it is._

"_We're gonna share, if that's all right," he says, as he pays the refreshments seller._

"_But then we'd have to sit together!"_

"_Whassamatter? I ain't got cooties."_

_That word, it reminds me of something. Something from when I was younger. A boy said that to me before._

"_Do you?" this boy says, taking the popcorn from the concessionist and handing it to me._

"_No, it's just I'm here with my friend. I should get back to her."_

"_I know, you just don't wanna miss any more of the movie."_

"_That's not true! I hate this movie!"_

_The concessionist glares at me._

"_I mean, it's not really my kind of movie."_

"_Yeah, it was better the first time I saw it."_

"_You've seen it before?"_

_He shrugs. "It was on a bet."_

"_A bet?"_

"_Yeah. Come over here."_

_He leads me out of the hearing of the refreshments seller. "See, I got this really good fake ID, but I know I don't look eighteen. You probably pass easy, huh?"_

"_I am eighteen."_

"_Oh. Well, I'm sixteen. So this was the ultimate test. But I felt weird the whole time, because I knew I'd have to talk about it in Confession. You know, betting, porn, and dishonesty, that's three strikes."_

"_Confession?" Well, now that I can see him in a better light, he does look Italian and so he's probably Catholic._

"_Yeah. But I got absolved. So I figure it's OK to see it again."_

"_I'm not a religion expert, but I don't think it works that way."_

"_No? Then I'm going to Hell." _

"_You don't sound too upset about the prospect."_

_He looks amused, maybe at my phrasing. "Well, at least I'll be in good company."_

"_What else are you going to Hell for?" I can't help but be curious, not yellow._

"_Well, it started when I was eleven."_

"_Eleven?!"_

"_Yeah, I kissed a girl."_

"_Oh, that's not so bad. I kissed a boy when I was thirteen."_

"_And see where it led you? Talking to strange men and watching porn."_

"_It was a sweet, lovely, innocent kiss!"_

_He gets a nostalgic look, if you can be nostalgic at sixteen. "Mine was nice. No tongues, but nice. She was nice, too. A tall, skinny blonde."_

_He glances at me. I've been a tall, skinny blonde at different points, but I've got this weight problem, and sometimes I let my hair go natural. And with my glasses and without braces, I look nothing like I did at thirteen._

_He sighs. "I think about her sometimes, wonder what happened to her."_

"_You didn't stay in touch?"_

"_Nah, we came from different worlds. It was just a passing summer thing."_

_I sigh, remembering my first kiss, that boy from the Y Camp._

"_Her name was Ingrid."_

_I spill my popcorn again._

"_Listen, I'm not made of money. I can't keep buying you popcorn just 'cause you're clumsy."_

_I grab his arm. "TELL ME YOUR NAME!"_

"_You are wiggin' out! Are you on somethin'?"_

_I let go. "I'm sorry. But please, tell me your name. It's very important."_

"_It's Tony. Tony Micelli."  
>"Tony? As in Anthony?"<em>

"_Yeah, if you wanna be formal."_

"_Where was this kiss?"_

"_You got a dirty mind, Lady."_

"_I mean, was it in a park? A car? A movie theater?"_

"_It was at summer camp. To be more precise, Make-Out Rock."  
>My jaw drops. No, maybe it's a coincidence. After all, at my camp we called it Kissing Rock. And Anthony was my age, not eleven. Or so I thought.<em>

"_That's not a good look for you. You're cuter when you smile."_

"_Thank you. I used to wear braces."_

"_Yeah, so did Ingrid. I cut my lip on them. But it was worth it."_

"_So she was a tall, skinny blonde?"_

"_Yeah, taller than me. But she was older than me, too. I had to lie about my age to get her to go out with me."_

"_Is it possible she lied to you?"_

"_Ingrid? Nah, she was too innocent, kinda naïve. Not someone who lies."_

"_What if she wasn't Ingrid?"_

"_Are you a Philosophy major or somethin'?"_

"_No, Business."_

"_Oh, you sounded like this one girl I went out with. She wasn't in college or nothin', but she talked about past lives and parallel realities."_

"_What if Ingrid had a parallel life? What if she was named Angela?"_

"_Angela? That's a nice name."_

"_Thank you. It's mine."_

_He stares at me. "Take off your glasses," he whispers hoarsely._

_I do, thinking of all those movies where the girl has to take off her glasses so the boy can kiss her._

"_Those brown eyes!" he says, staring into them with his own brown ones. "But that's impossible!"_

"_Hey, you two, did you want more popcorn?"_

"_No, thanks, Buddy. We're goin' for a walk."_

"_We are?"_

"_Yeah, we've got a lot to catch up on after five years."_

"_Are you sure you want to be seen with me?"_

"_Of course, why wouldn't I?"_

"_Well, my friend Trish is much prettier than I am."_

"_Your friend Trish is a stuck-up bitch, if you don't mind me saying so."_

_I feel like I should stick up for Trish but he's right. I think of how insecure she makes me feel, not that I need much help with that._

"_I don't mind. But you're not disappointed with how I turned out?"_

"_I dunno. How do you kiss these days?"_

_I show him. _

"_That's a lot better without the braces. And that's saying something."_

"_And just think, you've already been absolved for premarital kissing."_

"_I thought you said it doesn't work that way."  
>"What do I know? I'm Protestant."<em>

…

Look at her, how can she sleep so peacefully? She's got a nice smile on her face, and she's making little sighs. I wonder if she's dreaming. I wonder what she's dreaming.

I hope it's about me. Otherwise, I'm kinda insulted. I can see her sleeping through the night a few months ago, when she didn't know I was lying next to her. But now?

Meanwhile, I'm lying here next to her warm, soft body, her wearing the other half of these pajamas. And the socks, can't forget the socks. I wanna touch her, even if it's just to stroke her hair. But I agreed, nothing's gonna happen tonight, if ever. That doesn't mean I don't want it to.

OK, I gotta do something about this. And since it can't involve her, I'll have to take matters into my own hands. It worked twenty-two years ago, when I wanted to swim back across the lake and do more than kissing with Ingrid, even though I didn't yet know what that "more" was. I just knew that my first ever morning hard-on was due to her and I had to slip down to the outhouse before the other guys in my cabin woke up and saw….

…That's better. Oh, Jesus, I just noticed. Her panties are hanging on the shower rod. They must've been wet. I mean from the rain! Heavenly Father, forgive me, give me strength to resist temptation!

Great. I'm abstaining from a woman and I'm praying like I haven't in years. I would've made a great monk. Well, maybe not.

OK, blank out your mind, Micelli. You can do this. It's just like sleeping down the hall from her, only closer. I'll stay on my side of the bed.

She's still asleep. Is she laughing in her sleep? Should I be insulted? Well, maybe she's not dreaming about me.

Get in the bed. Carefully. Lie down, lie flat. Blank, blank, like a movie screen. No good, I'm thinking of that porn on cable. OK, nice boring scenery. Hills, valleys. OK, scratch that. Towns, boring towns….

_"This train is so boring, Tony."_

_ "Relax, Philly, we'll be in D.C. soon and I can guarantee you won't be bored there."_

_ "Yeah? Is it true that the hippie chicks don't wear no bras?"_

_ "I ain't seen a bra on one yet."_

_ "Does that mean you haven't felt any of 'em up?"  
>"Not funny, Philly."<br>"Maybe you'll think it's funny after a hit of this." Philly Fingers takes a joint out of his pocket._

_ "What are you crazy? Put that away before someone sees you!"_

_ "Then you don't want none?"_

_ I'm tempted. I've tried it once or twice but it never does nothin' for me. Maybe this time will be different, and I do need to relax. I feel keyed up, not like the last time I went. I've got vibes that this time will be different, and not just that I'll do more than feel up a girl after a protest march._

_ "OK, but not here. Let's find an empty compartment."_

_ So we start lookin', but he gets sidetracked by a girl, of course. He hands me the joint and says they'll meet up with me later. You'd think he'd wanna get her high before puttin' the moves on her, but he's not too bright. Me, I like 'em mostly sober, which ain't too easy with hippie chicks, but they sound high even when they ain't. But, oh, that bra-less look!_

_ I see the conductor comin', so I duck into a compartment. I don't wanna be caught with a joint that ain't even mine._

_ "Excuse me, you can't smoke that in here!" The voice is a little snooty, definitely not from New York, although that's where the train started from._

_ "I'm not gonna. It's my friend's." Why am I explaining to her?_

_ "What are you doing in my compartment?"_

_ "I wanted to talk to you," I improvise._

_ "You did?" She sounds surprised, maybe flattered. I take a closer look. This ain't no hippie chick. For Christ's sake, she's wearing pearls and a twinset! Not only that, she's got some weight on her, and glasses. Not the cute granny kind either._

_ "Yeah, about, about The War." I don't really care about The War, though I wouldn't tell the hippie chicks that. I mean, I was sad when my friend Tiny's big brother got killed in 'Nam, but I'm only sixteen and I don't really understand politics, though I talk a good game._

_ "I'm sorry, but I don't discuss politics with strangers."_

_ "How about sex?"_

_ "Don't make me call the porter!"_

_ "Relax, Lady." She's probably my age but she looks fifty in that outfit. "Do you discuss it?"_

_ "Of course not!" she says, still all shocked._

_ "Religion?"_

_ "Well, sometimes. But not with strangers."_

_ "So what do you discuss with strangers?"_

_ "I never talk to strangers."_

_ "What am I? Your long-lost friend from camp?"_

_ "No, I don't know why I'm talking to you. Especially since you're a freak."_

_ "I'm not a freak."_

_ "Well, you're dressed like one."_

_ "Well, I'm going to a protest march."_

_ "So am I, but I'm dressed sensibly."_

_ "You're going to a protest march? Dressed like that?"_

_ "I'm going as an observer."_

_ "You from the U.N. or somethin'?"  
>"No, I'm doing research for my Contemporary Cultures class. I get extra credit if I observe a protest march."<em>

_ "They don't got protest marches at your college?"_

_ "Of course not! Well, there was one time."_

_ "Yeah?"  
>"I led a demonstration against the food in the cafeteria."<em>

_ "You don't like food?" You coulda fooled me._

_ "No, I love it!" She blushes. "But it has to be well cooked, which this wasn't."_

_ "Yeah, my old man's like that. After my ma died, I had to learn how to cook good fast."_

_ "I'm sorry."_

_ "No, I like cookin'."_

_ "I mean about your mother."_

_ I shrug, slipping from hippie radical back to Brooklyn tough guy. "It was a long time ago." Nine years, come Christmas._

_ "My father died, four years ago."_

_ "I'm sorry."_

_ "Thank you."_

_ I'm makin' this totally unexpected connection, and for once not thinkin' about how far I can go with a girl, just enjoyin' her company. It's freaky but groovy._

_ Then Philly barges in, with two hippie chicks. "Hey, Tony," he whispers in his raspy voice, "you still got the J?" I hold it out and he takes it. "Great, we can share. Everything." One chick giggles and the other one says, "Far out!"_

_ "Thanks, Philly, but I'll wait till we get to D.C."_

_ "Oh, I get it, you got some sleeper-car action. I didn't know you like 'em fat. There's this Mama Cass type friend of theirs you might wanna try later."_

_ "Willyougetoutahere?"_

_ He does, taking the joint and the girls with him. I look at the girl in pearls. She's cryin'!_

_ "I'm sorry, that Philly, he's got no class."_

_ "He's right. I am fat!" _

_ "Nah, you're just, just extra curvy!"_

_ She laughs, then sighs. "Thank you, but I know what I look like."_

_ "OK, so you got some pounds you could lose. But you're not as big as Mama Cass."_

_ "You've got a real way with the compliments."_

_ I sit down on the lower bunk next to her. "OK, how about this? You got real pretty brown eyes when they're not cryin'."_

_ "You don't have to say that."_

_ "No, you do. Take off your glasses."_

_ She hesitates but then she does._

_ "Yeah, real nice."_

_ "You've got nice brown eyes, too, what I can see of them. And nice dark hair. It's cleaner than most freaks'."_

_ I start to protest, then I realize she's teasin'. I like that. "Well, I wash it every other day. It takes a long time to dry since I let it grow out, but it's worth it. My old man's not crazy about the length of course. He keeps threatenin' to drag me off to the barber for a crewcut." It was a fight just to grow it down to my shoulders._

_ "Maybe you could compromise, get a Beatles cut. Not the Beatles now, but a few years ago."_

_ "Yeah, maybe. Your hair is nice, too." It is, dark with a flip. Different from both the big hair in Brooklyn and the down-to-the-waist look at protests. "Kinda _That Girl."

_"Oh, you think so? Marlo Thomas is my idol! And I love how her character lives in New York and has such a glamourous single life. That's my dream."_

_ "Don't forget her loyal boyfriend, Donald." I think Donald is a sap. I mean, the show's been on, what, two years, and he's not gettin' any?_

_ "Well, I think he's kind of a drip actually."_

_ "Yeah? I'd think you'd like that type. I mean, he's nice-lookin', and he's got a good job, and he's educated and well-dressed and all that."_

_ "I know. But I, well, can I confess something?"_

_ I don't know where this is going. Maybe this chick has a secret wild side. I don't know if I'm scared or turned on._

_ "Yeah, go ahead. Think of me as a priest."_

_ She laughs, because I look nothing like a priest, in my tie-dye shirt, love beads, tattered jeans, and sandals. But she plays along, which I like. _

_ "Bless me, Father, for I have wanted to sin."_

_ "Intent is often as bad as the action, My Child."_

_ "I know, Father. It's just. Well, I think I've always had a weakness for bad boys."_

_ "You have? Um, My Child."_

_ "Not delinquents, but boys with a bit of an edge to them. It all started when I was thirteen."_

_ Thirteen?! Miss Sorority Sister may end up being the wildest chick I've ever met._

_ "Yes, when I was thirteen, I kissed a boy."_

_ "Where?"_

_ "At summer camp."_

_ "Where on the body? My Child."_

_ "Oh, on the lips."_

_ "Did you use your tongue?"_

_ "Of course not, Father!"_

_ "Well, that's a venial sin. Say three Hail Marys and try not to think about kissing."_

_ "But, Father, I'm not even Catholic."_

_ We crack up. It's too hard to keep this up._

_ "I kissed a girl at summer camp. It happens."_

_ "How old were you?"_

_ "Eleven."_

_ "You started young."_

_ "Yeah. Well, she thought I was thirteen."_

_ "You lied to her?"_

_ "Well, she wouldn't have kissed me if she knew I was younger."_

_ "But that's a horrible foundation for a relationship!"_

_ "What relationship? It was just a kiss."_

_ "Just a kiss?"_

_ "OK, it didn't go anywhere, but it was a very nice kiss."_

_ "So was mine. And I didn't lie to him!" Then she giggles. "Well, except about my name."_

_ "What is your name?"  
>"Angela."<em>

_ "That's nice, I like that."_

_ "Thank you."_

_ "Or are you lying to me, too?"_

_ "I'm not hoping __you'll__ kiss me."_

_ "You're not?" Why am I disappointed?_

_ "Did you want to kiss me?" She sounds surprised._

_ "I dunno. I hadn't thought about it."_

_ "Well, he, the boy at summer camp, he didn't have to think about it. Anthony was very eager."_

_ "Anthony?" Suddenly I've got a funny feeling about this._

_ "Yes. And I don't think __he__ lied, because he looked like an Anthony."_

_ "And what did you look like?"_

_ "Well, I was tall, blonde, and skinny, if you can imagine!"_

_ "Yeah, I can imagine. So what name did you give him?"_

_ "Ingrid."_

_ "Holy shit!" The room feels like it's spinning._

_ "What's wrong? Are you 'tripping'? Do you need medical attention?"_

_ "No, I'm stone cold sober. And I think I'm your long-lost friend from camp!"_

_ She stares at me and then she kisses me and I feel higher than I've ever been._

I wake up and Angela's looking at me. "Tony, are you OK? You were tossing in your sleep."

Well, it's better than waking up with a hard-on. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little cold, with the rain comin' in and everything."

"Why don't you take the socks? My feet are warm."

"Sure they're warm. You're wearing socks."

"No, I mean I don't get cold feet."

Neither of us says the obvious. Then she sits up in bed and I try not to look at anything that her pajama top doesn't cover, including her face. She takes off the socks and holds them out to me.

"No, I'm fine. But thank you."

She lies back down. Then she encloses one of my cold feet in both of her warm ones. "Does that help?"

I feel her warmth shoot from my toes all the way up to my brain. Then it sinks back down to the center.

"You better give me those socks, Ingrid."


	3. And the Seven Seas

I'm so happy Tony is throwing a surprise birthday party for me. He's so thoughtful!

I know he cares for me. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened months ago if Sam hadn't come home from school just when I was working up the courage to tell Tony how I feel about him. But I've had other opportunities since then and I still haven't managed. Maybe it's better the way things are.

I'm sure I won't be able to fall asleep, wondering what will happen at the party. (It's no longer a surprise that he's throwing it, but I don't know any details.) Well, I'll find out soon enough….

_I stare out the train window on the way back to Fairfield. I got an earlier appointment with the therapist than I expected. And I had a breakthrough much sooner than I expected. I admitted I love Tony! To her and to myself. But can I admit it to Tony?_

_I'm in my living room. (Scenes change quickly in dreams.) The kids aren't due back from school for another hour. Tony has just told me he's not going to marry Frankie, perfect as she seemed for him. He doesn't love her, "and love is important."_

"_Well, I told you mine. Now you tell me yours," he says, meaning the personal things we had to say._

_I take a deep breath. "I'm glad I'm not going to lose you."_

"_Good. I'm glad not to be lost."_

"_I don't ever want to lose you, Tony."_

_He stares at me. Have I gone too far?_

_Then he tries to make a joke out of it. "Well, you keep paying me the big bucks, I'm sure to stick around."_

"_That's not all that's keeping you here, is it?"_

"_No, of course not. This is a great job. A great life."  
>"What if you want something more someday?"<em>

"_You still wouldn't lose me."_

_We're standing close, but my hands are in my pockets to keep from shaking and his arms are crossed. The air crackles with electricity, like we want to touch each other but are afraid to._

_Then he uncrosses his arms and strokes my cheek with the palm of his hand. He whispers, "I thought I was gonna lose you a few months ago. When __you__ got proposed to."_

"_Should I have written ON on your window?"_

_He laughs and then he gives me a little kiss on the cheek. I want to turn my head and kiss his hand, but I feel paralyzed. Why can't I move even in my own dreams?_

_ He backs away and goes to pick up the laundry basket he set down. "Hey, I'm doing a load. You got anything I missed?"_

_ I blink and take my hands out of my pockets. Move, Angela! I peel off my pink blazer. "Yes, there's this."_

_ "I didn't mean what you're wearing," he says. I feel his eyes linger on where my white bra just barely shows through my white collared blouse. It's less obvious with the blazer. And when my nipples aren't hard._

_ I come over and drop the blazer in the basket. "Are you just doing colors, or do you want some whites?"_

_ "I could do a white load."_

_ I untuck the blouse from the gray slacks. My outfit couldn't be blander or more un-sexy but the way Tony's looking at me now, it's as if I'm wearing a black lace teddy. I start to undo the buttons, from the bottom up, wishing my hands weren't still shaking._

_ "You want some help with that?"_

_ "Please."_

_ He sets down the basket again. Now we're standing with nothing between us. And his hand strokes my cheek again, but the other hand undoes the last button. He tosses the blouse in the basket._

_ Then we kiss, not like ever before, but as if we have all the time in the world. _

_ When we stop, he moves his hand along the top of my bra. "This is white, too. Is it going?"_

_ "It's going."_

_ "Good." That hand continues to play with the top of my bra, lightly teasing the tops of my breasts, as the other hand reaches around and undoes the clasp. I try not to think of how many bras he must've unhooked over the years._

_ "I can remember when you refused to wash my 'dainties,' " I say._

_ "Well, that was before we became—friends."_

_ "Friends, right." I want to tell him I love him. But I wonder if he thinks of this as friendship with new benefits._

_ "Not that we're just friends."_

_ "Right."_

_ "Well, not anymore," he says, taking my bra completely off and tossing it into the basket._

_ "I guess you're going to go do laundry now."_

_ "It can wait," he says, one hand stroking my back, the other cupping my left breast so that I'm sure he can feel how fast my heart is beating._

_ Then he kisses me, a kiss that seems to go on forever._

_ It starts at my mouth but moves down to my neck, my shoulders, and then my chest. It feels so good! I start calling his name, sounding as if I'm hypnotized, which in a way I am._

I wake up wet. I masturbate as quietly as I can. Believe me, I have practice at this, although it's been a long time since I've had a romantic dream of Tony. We've never gone this far before, and it's still only "second base." Even in my dreams, I'm afraid to take it too far. But oh, it was lovely!

…

Oh, I've never been so embarrassed! This morning, Jonathan told me he overheard me calling Tony's name last night! He's still fairly innocent at twelve, so I was able to tell him I just wanted Tony to open my window. I'm glad Mother wasn't around. I can just imagine what she'd have said!

When I asked, Tony told me he didn't hear any "strange noises" last night. That would not be how I'd want him to find out my feelings for him.

I really hope this doesn't happen again. I know, I'll exercise really hard before I go to sleep. I'll do it downstairs in the kitchen, so no one will hear.

…

Well, Mother and Sam caught me. No, not talking in my sleep, but exercising. They came downstairs to grab snacks for their sleepover. (Mother's bunking with Sam while the painters are working on her apartment.)

"Goodnight, Dear. Sweet dreams," Mother wished me as they headed back up.

"I'll settle for quiet ones," I told myself.

And now I'm back in my room. I think the key is to just not think about Tony before I fall asleep. Of course, that's like trying not to think of pink elephants. Not that Tony resembles a pink elephant in any way, shape, or form.

But this is definitely an elephant-in-the-living-room situation….

_I wake to Tony knocking on my bedroom door. I can't imagine why he's knocking. Well, no, I can imagine. I quickly throw on my pink robe. _

_ I open the door. Tony's still wearing the jeans and green sweatshirt from when we saw Sam and Jesse off to the prom. Maybe he's worried about Sam. It might be later than I think._

_ "What time is it?"_

_ "Eleven."_

_ "Tony, you said you wanted her home 'by dawn.' It's not even midnight."_

_ "This isn't about Sam. I want you to see something in the living room."_

_ "Is everything all right?"_

_ "Yeah, but it's a surprise."_

_ "Oh, I love surprises!" I slip on my pink bunny slippers._

_ He leads me down the hallway, and then has me close my eyes. He even covers them with one hand, just to be sure. His other hand guides me to the landing and down the stairs._

_ He lets go when we get to the living room and says, "Open sesame."_

_ And it is like I'm in a fairytale. Not _Aladdin,_ something more tropical. "Tahitian Twilight 2" to be precise._

_ Mother and then I recently told Tony the story of my being stood up for prom. And here in our living room, he's decorated like it's a high school gym (only not smelly of course). He's even got one of my favorite "oldies" on the tape player, from when we were both teenagers. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, Spring of '68. I was at Montague Academy by then, the humiliating prom behind me, but this song perfectly captures all that I dreamed a prom could be._

_ He asks me to dance. And on some level, I know that this all happened in real life. It was the real thing._

_ "Ain't nothin' like the real thing," he sings to me as we dance, and that happened, too._

_ But in the dream, when he gets to "I hear your sweet voice whispering in my ear," he's singing quietly in my ear._

_ Then we're quietly singing together, "Ain't nothing like the real thing, Baby. Ain't nothing like the real thing."_

_And I sing into his ear the lines about "fantasy" and "reality," and how "I need the shelter of your arms to comfort me."_

_He holds me so close. Then as Marvin and Tammi declare, "No other sound is quite the same as your name," he murmurs, "Angela," and I whisper, "Tony."_

_We've danced over to the couch. He eases us down onto it and says, "This is closer than a backseat."_

"_Tony, Tony," I say in a _You naughty boy _voice._

"_And I think your prom dress is gonna be real easy to unfasten." He unties my robe and eases it off. Then we start necking. "Good thing there are no chaperones around."_

_I can't seem to come up with anything to say but his name._

"_Are you keeping the bunny slippers on? Don't get me wrong, it's a cute look for you."_

_I laugh, sounding more like Joan Collins than like my nerdy teenaged self._

"_Tony, listen to me—" I begin, loving how he's touching me but knowing that the living room isn't the right place for this, Tahitian twilight or not._

"_OK, keep the slippers, but this is getting in the way." He eases off my floral patterned nightgown._

_I give another Alexis-Carringtonian laugh, lying on the couch next to him, me in only my slippers and panties._

"_So if you were wonderin' why I'm lettin' Sam stay out till dawn, it's so you can finally have the prom night you deserve."_

_As the Ohio Express starts singing about "love in my tummy," Tony kisses my stomach and breasts, not as if he's a horny teenaged boy trying to get laid, but as if my pleasure is what matters most. What did I do to deserve someone so sweet?_

"_Tony! I love you!" I shout._

"_What's going on down there?" Jonathan asks from the balcony, just as Sam's key turns in the front door._

"_Samantha, what are you doing home?" Tony demands, throwing my robe over me._

"_It's midnight. You were kidding about dawn, right?"  
>"Uh, this is really awkward. I'd better go."<em>

"_No, Jesse, take Sam for a drive, a long drive. Jonathan can go as chaperone."_

_Mother barges in from the back door. "So how was prom night?"_

"_More embarrassing than last time," I mutter._


	4. Everybody's Looking

"_Meow!" _

"_Hey, there, Fiorello, you rotten cat!"_

"_Is that, is that cat back yet?"_

"_Yeah!" I holler in my Brooklyn accent. "I thought you left for work."_

_Tony comes back onto the fire escape. "Nah, I couldn't. Not with—not with this rotten cat missing."_

_I smile knowingly. "He knows where he belongs."_

_Tony reaches over, but to stroke the cat sitting in my lap. "Yeah, but you know, he can wander a little, explore. As long as he comes home."_

"_What if he gets hurt out there? It's a dangerous world."_

"_Yeah, but I'll be lookin' out for him."_

"_Look, Tony—"_

"_Sweetheart, I know what you're gonna say. I was out of line."_

"_No, I was."_

"_Baby, you got a right to want more out of life."_

"_It's not that I don't love my life with you and the four and a half kids."_

"_More like four and eight-ninths," his says, his hand straying over to my huge stomach._

"_Yeah. But I guess I want it all."  
>"I know. I feel that way, too, sometimes. What if I had tried out for the majors, not gone into fish?"<em>

"_You've still got time to do somethin'. Not baseball but somethin'."  
>"Yeah, well, how 'bout you get your degree and then you can support me when <em>_I__ go to college?"_

"_I can't tell if you're kiddin'."_

_He shrugs. "Kinda sorta. I dunno, Angela, I like bein' a good provider. And you talkin' about gettin' a job, it made me think you don't need me no more."_

_I lean forward and kiss him, despite my stomach and the cat. "Tony, I love you. I'll always need you."  
>"Yeah, for what?"<em>

"_Well, for one thing, I couldn'ta had the four and eight-ninths without you."_

_He raises his eyebrows. "Well, I think we were thinkin' more about other needs those nights."_

_He still gets to me, after eighteen years of marriage. And he still thinks I'm sexy, even this pregnant. None of my friends can say that about their marriages._

_We start to kiss but Fiorello demands attention, so we have to stop and pet him again._

_Then Ma pipes up from the living room, "You lazy bum, stop pettin' the pussy and go to work!"_

"_Your mother is pure class."_

"_Ma, give us another minute!"_

"_Time is money, Angela. And he's got seven and eight-ninths hungry mouths to feed."_

"_Meow."_

"_Eight and eight-ninths," he says. _

"_Whatever. I'm goin' to church."_

"_You wanna take over as breadwinner, Honey-Bunny?"_

"_Not just yet. Let me have this baby first."_

_He laughs and then pulls me into his lap, knocking Fiorello down, but of course the cat lands on his feet. Then Tony gives me a little spank and nuzzles my neck. _

"_Oh, Tony, oh, Tony—OH TONY!" I remember what the doctor said about my "increased orgasmic potential" during pregnancy, which I've experienced a few times, even from neckin' like we're doin', but nothin' like this. This hurts real bad!_

"_Hey, get a room, you two!" Mrs. Rossini calls from below._

"_No, Mrs. Rossini, I'm—I'm havin' a baby!"_

"_I know, I was at your shower."_

"_Now, Angela?" Tony says, although with my water breakin' right in his lap, he shouldn't have to ask._

"_Yeah, now, Tony!"_

"_You want me to call the doctor? And what about Ma at church?"_

"_You call the doctor while I pack. And then I'll call Ma at church."_

"Hey, Angela, did you call your mother yet?"

I carefully open my eyes. It was just a dream. Another pregnant-in-Brooklyn dream, sort of a continuation of the one last evening.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

I'm in Mrs. Rossini's bedroom. Tony invited me to stay over last night, to keep keeping him company while he's apartment-sitting for her. I felt funny about it, especially after having that dream about being his wife in this apartment, but he said that Brooklyn is more fun with me here, and I didn't really get to experience much of it this time, what with waiting for Mrs. Rossini's cat to come home.

"It's all right." I sit up in bed.

"Can I come in?"

He slept on the couch, where I had my nap and the earlier dream. He'd brought along his pajamas, since he'd known he'd be sleeping over. I hadn't brought anything but a picnic basket, which we shared on the fire escape after our talk. He thought it'd be all right for me to sleep in one of Mrs. Rossini's muumuus that she didn't pack.

"Of course." I feel funny about this but it's not like he's never seen me in sleepwear.

He opens the door and smiles. "That's a cute look for you, sort of early Mrs. Roper."

"Thank you."

"So are you gonna call Mona about staying another night?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tony."  
>"Come on, it's the weekend. And you haven't really had the full Brooklyn experience yet."<p>

Only in my dreams. "Well, maybe another night would be all right. Although I feel bad about you sleeping on the couch."

"You wanna trade?"

"No, I—" No, I can't risk offering to share a bed, not here, not now. But I do take a smaller risk. "Tony, can I ask you something?"

He sits on the foot of the bed. "Sure, what?"

"Well, do you remember when your friend Dennis was talking about baby-making?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Ay, Angela, that's very tempting, but not in Mrs. Rossini's bed!"

I blush. "No, I mean, what you said about having twins."

"Well, yeah, if my life had gone a different way, then, yeah, twins woulda been great."

"How many kids do you think you would've wanted? With Marie?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Not too many."

"Good."

"What?"

"Well, you know, with overpopulation and everything."

"Right. No more than a half dozen."

"A half dozen?"

"Hey, for a Catholic, that's nothin'."

"But you were an only child. And Sam is."  
>"Both Marie and my mom had health issues."<p>

I hate to see him look so sad. He never talks about their illnesses or their deaths, although I'm sure he thinks about both women a lot.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs again. "Well, life doesn't always go the way you want. But it's been a good life anyway."

I nod.

"So how about you? Did you plan on an only child? Or did you want more?"

"I think if Michael hadn't traveled so much, then, yes. Maybe another child or two."

"Well, you know, it's not too late."

I blink. "It's not?"

"Yeah, these days, lots of women have babies in their 40s."

"I'm still in my 30s!" As he well knows.

"Well, yeah, but I mean by the time you meet some guy, fall in love, get married, and have a baby, you'll be in your 40s."

I'm about to say, "Well, I've already done two of those steps," when the phone rings.

He gets up and goes to the bedroom extension. "I promised Mrs. Rossini I'd take messages for her." He picks up the phone. "Rossini residence."

I smile. He's so cute!

"Yes, she's here. Yeah, Mona, she's lying in bed. What am I wearing? The usual muscle shirt and pajama bottoms. What's she wearing? A muumuu and a smile."

"Leave it to my mother to make an obscene phone call across state lines."

"Yeah, Mona, I'm gonna keep her another night, if that's OK with you. Why? Because I want her to have the full Brooklyn experience. OK, Mone, don't let the kids throw any wild parties. You either." He hangs up.

"What's next in my full Brooklyn experience?"

He gives me bedroom eyes, even though we're already in the bedroom. "Some nice, hard—Skee-ball!"

"I bet we score big."


	5. For Something

[Spoilers for _Some Like It Hot_]

"_Hey, uh, now that you're single, uh, you free for dinner?"_

"_Hm, maybe. But I should warn you, I don't kiss on the first date."_

"_We'll see."_

_The dream skips over dinner. Now Tony and I are standing outside my hotel room. This time we made sure to register separately._

"_Well, thank you for a lovely evening." I put out my hand to shake._

"_Hey, Angela, you know, this wasn't our first date."_

"_Oh, that's right. That comedy club."_

"_Yeah, and I meant to invite you to the Starlight Ballroom."_

"_So this is sort of our third date."_

"_Yeah, not counting all the dates we had that we didn't intend."_

"_Like the blind date Jonathan arranged."_

"_Yeah, and the dinner for two where that guy seemed like he stood you up."_

"_And our anniversary dinner when everyone else was busy."_

"_Yeah. Not that we need to be on a date to kiss."_

"_True." So I move my hand up to his hair and kiss his lips. He kisses back. It's less intense than the kiss of relief in the judge's office an hour ago, when our "marriage" was annulled. It's more tentative and tender._

"_So, uh, this makes at least the third state we've kissed in."_

"_Geographic or emotional?"  
>He smiles. "I think it's been more than three emotions. But I mean South Carolina, Connecticut of course—"<em>

"_Maine, when we were children at camp."_

"_Right. I was thinkin' of Missouri, when we went to the Cards reunion a couple years ago."_

"_Oh, right."_

"_I, uh, I wanted to kiss you when we went to California for Michael's wedding, but I didn't think it'd be appropriate."_

_I smile. "It would've cheered me up."_

"_Well, if we ever hit California again, we'll have to."_

"_OK. And we should definitely kiss in New York."_

"_Manhattan or Brooklyn?"_

"_Maybe both. Just to be sure."  
>"OK. That'll leave 44 states."<em>

"_Oh, and we've kissed in two countries, the U.S. and Jamaica."_

"_Right. Too bad we didn't in Italy."_

"_That would've been very romantic."_

"_Yeah. Or Mexico."_

"_That would've made getting fired worth it."_

"_I'm still sorry about that, Angela."_

"_No, Tony, they had it in for me. And, really, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."_

"_The best?"_

"_In terms of my career."_

_Then we kiss again, more lingeringly this time._

"_I hope that wasn't redundant," I say when we part._

"_I want to kiss you all over."_

_The way he says it, he could mean he wants to kiss me again in South Carolina. He also might mean he wants to kiss me in every state, every country. But what I think he really means is…._

…_The dream fades to black, and then I'm lying in my hotel bed, wearing the replacement black teddy, well, sort of wearing it, as there are parts where Tony has pushed the lace to the side to expose even more of my skin._

"_I didn't tear this one, did I?" he asks, kissing his way back up to my face._

"_No, I think you just stretched it." Not that I care. I feel completely relaxed and content._

"_I like that smile."_

"_Good. You brought it out in me." Even with the dream skipping over the best part, I know he was wonderful—passionate but attentive. "You're smiling, too."_

_He is, grinning really. "Well, number one, I like making you smile. And number two, you taste, and smell, __so good__."_

_I remember him saying something about my perfume, but I don't like to wear perfume. It gives me a rash._

"_Thank you, Tony. I wish I weren't so sleepy, so I could return the favor." I would love to taste his skin, not just on the face._

"_Maybe back in Connecticut."_

"_Yes." I don't worry about how we'd find the privacy for that._

"_After all, we've just broken the law, but we shouldn't push our luck."_

"_The law? What law?"_

"_What I did to you, that's illegal in South Carolina."_

"_What a silly law," I murmur._

"Angela, Angela." Tony nudges me with his elbow.

"Oh, Tony," I coo, and then snuggle up against him. I know I'm waking up with him, but I don't at first remember where or why.

Then I find out that we're on the train to Washington, and Mother and Samantha are both standing in the doorway of the sleeper compartment. I let Tony share my bunk last night, because he needed his sleep for his big speech before the Senate today, especially since he missed sleep the night before.

Sam and my mother don't need much convincing that nothing happened last night. Tony takes this as an insult. After they leave, I find out that he's mostly cranky because he didn't get any sleep last night, since he was lying next to me in this bed that's even narrower than the one in the motel almost six years ago. I'm very flattered, but he thinks it's an insult that I slept so well.

I don't tell him of my dream of course, but I tell him how I slept more warm and sound with him than I have in months. I still feel relaxed and content, although now a little worried about what his lack of sleep will do to him.

…

As I'm about to fall asleep on the stalled train from Washington to New York, I think of two train rides in the opposite direction. On one, I was dreaming of meeting Angela back in the Fall of '68 and sharing our second kiss. On the other, which really happened, just a few days ago, I lay awake all night, driven mad by her natural scent, in one of these narrow little bunks. And I kept thinking of poor Jack Lemmon in _Some Like It Hot_. You watch the movie, it just seems funny, but think about it. This guy has got Marilyn Monroe snuggled up against him, playing footsie, "Sugar" feeling safe 'cause she thinks "Daphne" is a woman. And he can't give himself away, because if he does, he gets kicked off the train and probably killed by the mob.

Angela isn't built like Marilyn, but I know exactly how "Jerry" felt in that movie. Well, except for the dressing in drag part. I mean, Angela and I have had some close calls over the years, including in a motel bed that wasn't much wider than a train bunk. I've always tried to control myself, not give in to temptation. But the other night, Madonna mi! If she'd only been awake for my "hearts pounding, minds racing" confession!

But, no, she felt all warm and cozy that night. We're never gonna get anywhere. And maybe that's good, I mean at least till I can get out of school and find a teaching job. It's just, sometimes I get tired of waiting, and I think she does, too. Maybe I should—

"Tony, are you awake?"

I'm by myself. Chappy got lucky again, but this time he went to the woman's compartment. I doubt I'm gonna get lucky tonight, but I definitely want to know why Angela's at my door.

I get up and answer it. "Angela?"

"Tony, I'm sorry to bother you but Mother kicked me out of our room."

"Oh. Uh, do you wanna sleep here?" I don't suggest she try Sam's room, although that would make more sense. Well, at least now we know how to lower the upper bunk.

"If it's OK."

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

She takes off her robe. She's not wearing anything sexy, just the pink pajamas from before. And I'm in very un-suave striped pajamas myself. It's almost, I dunno, domestic I guess. Really, Angela sleeping a few feet above me isn't much different than her sleeping down the hall at home.

"Thank you. I saw Chappy going into a woman's compartment, so."

"Yeah, I got a vacancy." I hit the wall so that the upper bunk falls.

"Thank you."

"You need a boost?"

"No, that's OK."

"Well, goodnight, Angela." I lie back down.

"Goodnight, Tony."

Even though she kissed me in D.C., as part of a "show & tell," I don't think it's a good idea to kiss goodnight now. So I just wave.

And then she climbs up to her bunk, and I suddenly remember Tony Curtis, as "Josephine," watching girls climb up and down the ladder to "Daphne's" bunk. I can't really see Angela's legs but I know what they look like uncovered: long and sleek.

Maybe I'm not gonna get any sleep tonight either. At least I can't smell her too well from down here….

_ Angela is singing "Fever," like she did in that nightclub months ago. Except that her hair is in a platinum bob and she's wearing that incredibly lowcut dress Marilyn wears in _Some Like It Hot_. Angela still has her own figure, but this flapper look works for her. And, oh, how it works on me!_

_ I'm luckily not dressed in drag. Actually, I'm dressed like Tony Curtis in his "Shell Oil, Jr." outfit, thick glasses and everything. We're on his, my, yacht. I'm doing his Cary Grant impression, which is better than mine, although he's from the Bronx._

_ "That's absolutely marvelous, My Dear," I say._

_ "What a lovely way to burn," she concludes._

_ "Lovely," I murmur._

_ She slinks over. She speaks as herself rather than Marilyn, but Angela's voice can be very sexy in its own right. "I need to feed my fever."_

_ "More chicken?" I hold up a drumstick._

_ "No, I need to feed it with kisses."_

_ She kisses me, steaming up my glasses._

_ I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I mean, "Joe" was faking impotence in this scene. I ain't doin' that!_

_ "What's wrong?" she asks when I don't respond._

_ "I'm shy." I can do shy._

_ "Let me bring you out of your shell."_

_ The scene changes to Jack Lemmon tangoing with Joe E. Brown! Funny, but not what I want to see right now._

_ But then it's back to me and Angela. I'm lying on the couch and she's lying partly on top of me, kissing the hell out of me. I compliment her kissing and she says she used to sell kisses for the Milk Fund._

_ I start kissing back more, and I get hard, which I'm sure she can feel, because more of her body is on top of mine. I want this to go on and on, but I also want to be inside her!_

_ Then the dream fades to black and then we're in the motorboat, heading back to shore at dawn. The mood is relaxed, contented._

When I wake up, I see it was a wet dream. I really hope Angela's asleep. I clean up at the sink as quietly as I can, then put on my robe, just in case.

I'm about to get back into bed, and hopefully dream something less, uh, stimulating, when Chappy comes in, with a woman!

"Chappy, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry, to wake you, but her roomie came back. So since you didn't have a hanger on the door—Oh, I see you got company."

"Tony, what's going on?" Angela asks sleepily.

"Angela, how do you feel about karaoke?"

"They're not doing karaoke on this trip. Mother told me it's all-night movies."

"How does she know?"

"Her, um, guest is the entertainment director."

"And he's not running the projector?"

"It's a VCR and he has an assistant."

"Now, Tony, you got squatter's rights. Me and Ethel can go watch the movies."

"No, it's fine, Chappy, you can stay. Angela, maybe you'd better go to Sam's room."

"I'd rather watch the movies. They're showing _Some Like It Hot."_

"Oh, great."

"I love that movie! There's nothin' like a comedy."

"Chappy," Ethel says.

"But I saw it when it came out. You kids have fun."

"Thanks, Chappy." I hand Angela her robe and she climbs down from the upper bunk.

So Angela and I make our way to the entertainment lounge. We sit in the back of the room and after awhile hold hands. There are other people here, although not a lot, but it's not exactly a makeout movie. Although, yeah, it's very sexy.

"It's amazing how much they could say between the lines," she whispers to me.

"Yeah," I whisper back, "like when 'Sugar' says he owes the Milk Fund $850,000."

"She must've been some kisser."

"I don't think they were just kissing."

"But it takes only one more kiss to make it an even million."

"Yeah, but I think they were doing other things while they were kissing."

"Oh!"

"You're so innocent," I say fondly.

"So that's what the Milk Fund was!"

"Yeah, it was—Wait, what do you think it was?"

She blushes. "A very special kind of kiss."

I'm not sure if she's saying what I think she's saying, and I'm afraid to ask. I don't know if I'm more scared of shocking her, or of her shocking me.

Then she says, "I was actually wondering about 'Daphne' and Osgood."

"Huh?"

On the television, Jack Lemmon is saying he's engaged, and then Tony Curtis says, "Congratulations. Who's the lucky girl?" Everyone in the room, including Angela but not me, laughs, when "Daphne" says, "I am."

"Angela," I whisper, "what are you sayin'?"

She blushes again, and then she whispers, "Well, I just have a theory about how 'Daphne' got a proposal that night."

"You're crazy! Osgood thinks 'Daphne' is a woman!"

"Yes, but there are things that 'she' could do to him, without giving away 'her' identity, that Osgood would like enough to propose."

I stare at her. Maybe I'm the innocent one. It's like there's this whole extra layer, not just to the movie, but to Angela, that I never, well, dreamed of. In fact, I'm now wondering what exactly she did to me in my dream before we ended up in the motorboat.

I don't ask for clarification. I just keep holding her hand and I go back to watching the movie.

When it's over, she says she's getting sleepy, but the next movie is _The Way We Were_, which is sort of "our movie."

I tell her, "We can watch it when we get home. Maybe you should go crash in Sam's room."

"No, there's no point in waking her up. I'll keep you company."

She snuggles up against me and soon falls asleep in my arms, sitting up, like in front of the TV at home, in the days before Kathleen. As Angela drifts off, she whispers, "Goodnight, Tony," giving a little spin to my name, as if she's been picturing me as Mr. Curtis.

I murmur, "Sweet dreams, Sugar."

THE END


End file.
